


White

by Ghost_Writer



Category: Swimming RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_Writer/pseuds/Ghost_Writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter how long you stay in there you will never be clean, never be able to wash the traces of Ryan away. Deep down inside you wonder if you really want to wash the traces away, you scrub your skin to the point that is bleeding everytime you have been with him and yet you still go back to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White

**Author's Note:**

> Set in Barcelona 2013, with flashbacks to Athens

You press your head against the cold tiles in the shower as you let the hot water creep across your back, your back that is scattered with bitemarks and bruises. The water sluices down your back, an artificial waterfall created by the showerhead and your body. You have spend a lot of time in the water, it's true, but showers are different. Showers are supposed to be cleansing, relaxing.

They are supposed to rinse you of your troubles, loosen all those muscles that tighten with stress. But it has been a long time since a shower could really cleanse you of everything.

No matter how long you stay in there you will never be clean, never be able to wash the traces of Ryan away. Deep down inside you wonder if you really want to wash the traces away, you have scrubbed your skin to the point that is bleeding everytime you have been with him and yet you still go back to him, even now after all these years you come running. Irony really, it being Barcelona that he summoned you to. Barcelona,10 years ago it was easy to rinse away all the troubles, Ryan Lochte was not part of your life back then.

You turn up the heat on the shower, hoping the heat will wash the traces away. But you're back in time, back in another shower in another place. You cannot relax. For some reason you can't let it float down the drain with the rest of your issues. And you don't quite feel as clean as you should. It had started with water, back then in Athens. 

 

It was then, in the days of the first gold and victory, that you first began to feel unclean. Not long after Ryan had come into your life.

Late nights were the rule in Athens post-competition, and there were no exceptions. It was early morning, really; the sun was an hour from its inevitable rise when the two of you stumbled back to his room, fuelled on ouzo. The door clicked into place and then his tongue was tangled with yours, shoving into your mouth and fighting for control. He pushed you onto his bed, landing face first with him on top of you. He gained control and never reliquished it.

You were contaminated, spoiled by longing; the thought that it was insane and crazy and wrong only lasted a moment. You left the moral convictions to others, though: their beliefs, not yours. You could do whatever the hell you wanted to with your dick, and had absolutely no reason to feel morally bankrupt because of it. It didn't quite change the fact that you wanted to feel dirty. And you did feel ruined, fouled by your own desires.

You felt unclean, like you hadn't showered in days… you wondered if you would ever be clean again, if you ever wanted to feel clean again.  You felt it as he commanded, "Roll over," and you obeyed him without a whimper or an objection. His eyes bored holes into yours as he pulled your hands above your head and held them there, one large hand wrapped around your wrists. You could have resisted - could have pulled away, tugged your arms free, pushed him off you - but you didn't. You needed to take it as much as he needed to give it.

After, he had to practically prop you up in the shower. Your knees didn't want to cooperate, but it was necessary. You were dirty in body as well as mind. There were small bits of dried blood here and there, accompanied by sweat and come - yours and his. He washed you from hair to toes being careful to avoid the marks he had left and dried you off when you carefully stepped out of the shower stall. He tucked the towel around your waist, making sure you were steady as he led you back into the bedroom.

The sun was rising, peeping through the curtains and bringing about a new day. He helped you dress, muttering a few words of… what? You don't even remember what he said now, not clearly anyway. At the time, you thought he was ashamed, embarrassed by the night's events, but now you are sure he was not ashamed, he had summoned you more than once over the years. 

You trembled when you thought of it - later in the day, in the week, when you saw him so carefully trying to ignore you, in public, when you saw each other. It didn't stop him from luring you into his trap again and again, every night in Athens somewhere different but always the same Ryan fucking you, making you feel dirty..  It did not stay in Athens, it followed you to Bejing and London. A part of you hoped it would end in London. .   You tremble even now, thinking back to the first time..so many weak moments ago. It is not unpleasant, that shiver you get as you remember.

 

You grab a towel to dry off as you exit the shower, turning the faucet on the water and all the memories you keep bottled up inside. The towel is white, just like the ones in Athens. It is just like the one Ryan wrapped around you the first time he fucked you. But the towel got tainted by blood, your blood. Everyone knows that white is the color of purity, of all things innocent and chaste. You are far from pure, and miles from innocent now. Ryan made sure of that: he gave you that unclean, dirty feeling you need to get by. You were never really sure if he did it on purpose or if he truly loved you.

Saying you did not love him would be a lie, and even though you have done bad things in your life, lying is would never be one of them.

You enter the room and see Ryan fast a sleep on his bed. And somewhere along the way you realised you stopped caring if you would ever get clean. White has never been your color, anyway.

 

**Author's Note:**

> please note that it is not intended as rape.


End file.
